


Sketch of a perfect form

by slof



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Artist Yachi, Atsumu is naturally an asshole, F/M, Inarizaki!Yachi, Osamu dumb, Osayachiweek, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slof/pseuds/slof
Summary: After a few deep breaths, Yachi decides she might want to take up the challenge of being Inarizaki's manager
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Yachi Hitoka
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	Sketch of a perfect form

**Author's Note:**

> Inarzaki!Yachi / “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I in the way?”

There was something about the boy’s volleyball team that Hitoka took an interest in. Whenever she watched the athletes playing on the court, she wondered if there could be any way that she could help them. They seemed like they might need someone to keep them in line other than their number one jersey, which based on Hitoka’s knowledge was their third-year captain though she was running blank on his name. 

So when the idea of _‘manager’_ popped up in Hitoka’s name, she chewed on the edge of her pencil. She was good at managing, keeping people in line, keeping things together. Hitoka might have been a little clumsy, but with her mom’s genes, Hitoka was confident she could do something like managing a team full of boys. 

As the thought fluttered her mind, she watched one of the games with one leg over the other, a sketchbook sitting in her lap as she was drawing one of the wing spikers. It was hard considering she didn’t have a camera to snap his photo, but whenever he went up to spike, Hitoka made sure to watch. That meant she had her eye on him the whole game.

When the game was over, Hitoka shut her sketchbook, quickly placed it in her bag, swung it over her shoulder, and stood up. With a few breaths as she tucked the pencil behind her ear, she began to make her way over to the bench where the team was stood laughing and congratulating each other on the win with slaps on the backs and wide smiles.

She was nervous. Obviously, she was way more than just nervous, but she didn’t have the time to turn back when someone called out to her.

“Heya,” they said, a sly sounding voice as they walked up to her. Hitoka froze in place, her shoulders stiffening. She regretted walking over almost instantly. He was tall, super tall, and Hitoka wondered how someone could be the size of a skyscraper. “Ya need somethin’?” He asked. 

Hitoka knew enough about her own school’s volleyball team to know this was one of the famous Miya twins, Miya Atsumu. She had always wondered if they dyed their hair considering they both had different colors, and upon closer look at the roots, her theory was proven correct.

“I—um—well—“ Hitoka stuttered out. She failed to form a sentence in front of the number seven, that was until another walked over.

“Atsumu, go bother someone else,” they spoke, and Atsumu muttered some things under his breath before he marched off. “Can I help ya?”

“Yeah,” Hitoka said quietly, looking up to the one in front of her — that number one jersey. “I was wondering—well, I noticed that you guys don’t have a manager for your team.” Her voice was quiet as she spoke, but nonetheless, she was able to get it out. 

The captain let out a chuckle. “Ya sayin’ ya wanna be manager?”

“I just think it would be cool!” Hitoka said before she could stop herself. “I mean, you all play so well. Being able to see it up close, being able to actually help you guys — you know, in the best way that I can.” Hitoka’s looked to the gym floor, staring at a small shine that reflected off the floor from the sun through one of the gym windows. A smile turned on her face imagining helping the Inarizaki team. “I just think it would be fun and an experience.” She slowly looked up to the player, at first she had thought her rambling had lost her the opportunity she wanted, but looking at him, it didn’t seem that way. He smiled.

“‘Lright, but if ya ever wanna quit,” he turned back and looked to the team. The one twin wrapped his arm around another, they laughed as they teased another member of the team. “I wouldn’t blame ya,” he finished, and he put his attention back to her. “Kita Shinsuke.” He held out a hand, and with a smile, Hitoka accepted it.

“Thank you! Yachi Hitoka!”

* * *

Hitoka started off nervous. She didn’t know what to do at first, that was until Shinsuke helped her out a bit. He told her what was the general job of a manager, not that she couldn’t figure it out. She knew what she should do, she didn’t know where to get the things. Shinsuke figured that had been the issue. He told her where the water bottles were, the towels, the jerseys, the ball cart. 

Before she knew it, Hitoka was a week into being Inarzaki’s manager, and she was already a pro. She was already handing towels or water bottles to players when they needed them, writing down the stats for the game, cheering with them during a good play. 

After one of the games, Hitoka was gathering the bottles around the bench, slipping the bottles into the carrying case. She placed it on a chair while she picked up towels.

“Here ya are.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Am I in the way..?” Hitoka’s voice trailed off as she spun around. In front of her stood one of the team’s twins — Miya Osamu. It was the one spiker that Hitoka had been sketching a while ago. She still had the drawing, unfinished as it sat in the sketchbook.

“Nah,” Osamu reassured, a small wave and a smile on his face. There was something about him, the curve at his lips, and the white of his teeth. “Just handin’ ya this.” The twin held out a towel to the manager.

“Oh,” she mumbled, accepting the towel. Their hands grazed as she accepted it, and she pulled it to her chest. “Thanks.”

“You're Yachi, right?” He asked, and Hitoka nodded. Nervously, she rubbed her thumb back and forth on the towel. “Haven’t really had the chance to talk to ya—“

“‘Samu!” The twin in front of her let out a groan, and he looked over his shoulder. The other Miya twin made his way over and slapped his hand on his shoulder. “Are ya comin’? Yer such a pain in the ass.” He looked good Hitoka. “Flirtin’ with the manager!?” Atsumu laughed as he slapped Osamu in the chest. “Yer a dog, ‘Samu!”

“What?” Osamu pushed Atsumu off of him, his face flushing bright red as he shoved his brother with both hands. “What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout, ya piece of shit?”

“Oi, don’tcha get all mad ‘cause I’m right!” Atsumu whined as he dodged some attacks from Osamu. “Ay, see ya later, Yachi! We gotta get changed but after that, ya can have ‘im all to yerself!” Atsumu ran off, Osamu chasing off after him in an embarrassed rage. 

Hitoka clenched the towel in her hand, staring down at the shiny gym floor as she tried to process what had just happened. 

_ ‘Flirtin’ wit the manager.’ _

She slapped herself in the cheek as she felt it burst with a heat. Shaking her head like a cartoon character, Hitoka took a deep breath and grabbed the rest of the things off the benches. 

* * *

Hitoka leaned against the wall, chewing on her pencil as she watched the practice. She was trying to finish the drawing she had started weeks ago when watching a match — the one of Osamu spiking. Her sketchbook’s pages had been cold for days. She had been too busy learning the job as a manager to draw, but now she had the time while they were practicing. It also meant another view for her; Hitoka had a front-row seat to what she was sketching.

In her head, she took a picture, and Hitoka began to quickly sketch everything she could remember. She dragged the lead on the shoulder, followed down his arm — there was a crinkle in the cloth she remembered seeing.

“Hey, that’s pretty good. That me?”

Hitoka felt herself freeze. She had to stop herself from pushing the lead into the paper and snapping it. Slowly, she glanced up and over, locking eyes with the soft grey ones that looked over her shoulder. She wanted to melt down a drain right then and there.

“I—uhm—well—“ Hitoka stuttered. 

Osamu cut her off when he laughed.  “Don’t be nervous ‘bout it. Ya make me look good.”

“Oh, please,” Hitoka quickly said. “You look way better than this. This is just a crappy drawing.”

“So yer sayin’ I look better?”

“Yeah, I mean—“ Hitoka blinked a few times when she realized what she had said. Her face slowly drained of color before it quickly filled with red. “I didn’t mean it that way! I just meant—“ she sighed out of frustration. “I don’t know,” she quickly mumbled.

“Is that all ya’ve done or there more?” Osamu asked, lifting a bottle in his hand to his lips. It must’ve been a small break.

“Well, no,” Hitoka admitted. “I have a few more sketches from other games,” she explained quietly.

“Gather up so we can start the next drill!” Someone had shouted. Osamu cursed under his breath, and he looked over at Hitoka.

“How ‘bout this?” Osamu said as he leaned down to set the water bottle on the floor. “I’ll walk ya home after practice and ya show me the others?”

“Huh?”

“Osamu, get her ass over ‘ere!” Atsumu shouted. Osamu wanted to yell back at him, but instead, he sighed and looked at Hitoka. 

“Deal?”

Before Hitoka knew it, she found herself slowly nodding in agreement.

“Nice.” He gave Hitoka a wave goodbye before running off to the rest of the team. Hitoka stood there, watching as they began to start the next drill. 

Miya Osamu was going to walk her home. 

She looked down at the sketch in her hand. 

Miya Osamu sketched roughly in perfect form.

She’d definitely have to complete this sketch. If not for herself, for Osamu.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


End file.
